Corinthians: Sinking
by lorcleis
Summary: Dimitri thinks himself insane, but when your wife is dead for ten years and your job begins to take over your entire life, there's few ways you can seek solace. [CorinthVerse]


It is five years after Rose's disappearance before Dimitri can bring himself to visit his wife's grave and, as per usual, it's at the behest of someone who knew her best.

"You haven't visited," Lissa says, scrutinizing Dimitri's face over a cup of steaming green tea.

He looks up from the paperwork that he'd been poring over with Christian for the past day.

"Liss," Christian says in a warning tone.

"No, he's been back from Russia for more than a month and he still hasn't visited her grave," she reiterates. It isn't in malice, but out of concern for him. After Dimitri was left with no one in Court, they became extended members of his family.

"It's fine," Dimitri says. He looks back down at his work, attempting to fend off the questions with an uninviting posture.

"You should visit this weekend," Lissa suggests. "Bring some flowers or something."

Christian glares at his wife.

"Flowers..." Dimitri repeats. He attempts to hold onto a watery memory about Rose's feelings towards flowers. He can't remember if she loved them or hated them and is struck suddenly by the idea that one day in the future, he won't remember at all. Something that had been balled up in his chest constricts itself even further.

"Where do you suggest I go?"

* * *

It's barely even dusk when Dimitri enters the florist that Sunday. They had just opened and a young Moroi is sweeping clippings from a new arrangement off of the floor. He starts when Dimitri enters.

"Hello," the cashier says. "What can I help you with?"

Dimitri frowns. He hadn't planned on what type of flowers to get, only that he needed something. He glances at the refrigerated case behind the counter and the rows of flowers that populate it.

"What would you recommend as a gift?" he says finally.

"Romantic?" the cashier asks.

He shrugs. The cashier isn't wrong.

With a nimble hand, he reaches behind the counter and comes up with a rose so red it might as well be dripping blood.

"You can never go wrong with red roses." There's a gleam in the cashier's eye.

Dimitri frowns. "Something less... flashy, please."

The cashier raises an eyebrow, but returns with another flower a moment later. "If you want to go for understated, I'd suggest this."

He produces a slim calla lily, the bloom white and pure like freshly fallen snow. Dimitri braces himself for a strong fragrance, but there is none. He's unused to lilies that didn't make his nose burn from the strength of their perfume. The flower is elegant and calm; like Rose when she was asleep.

"Perfect," he says.

And so Dimitri comes in the next Sunday and the Sunday after that, always for the same pristine bouquet of lilies. He never misses a week, not for missions, weather, or holidays. Every Sunday he's there, black duster in hand, waiting for flowers.

The employees think him to be mad. He must be, if he spends this much on flowers. Either that or his wife is a mess and he's always trying to cheer her up.

 _Lilies don't even wilt that quickly_ , whispers the cashier.

 _I heard he gives them to different girls each week_ , says another.

 _I heard it's none of your business_ , says the owner and the tittering stops for a moment. But only a moment.

Dimitri Belikov places a bouquet of calla lilies at the foot of a polished headstone for eleven years.

* * *

They tell the new guy about the regular, but he still fumbles through his first interaction with him, all thumbs at the cash register and stutters when he speaks.

"Lilies, right?" Jack asks. He fidgets with the ends of his apron.

"Lilies." Dimitri nods and glances at something on his phone. He couldn't pay less attention to Jack if he tried.

The metal tip of Jack's prosthetic leg taps against the tile of the florist shop as he reaches into the back for the ever-present bundle of lilies reserved for their ever-present Sunday customer.

Dimitri glances down at Jack's leg, but knows better than to ask about someone else's war wounds. Jack notices his glance and bites his lip.

"Strigoi attack," Jack says. He places the lilies on the counter gingerly. "They like whole limbs now, I guess."

Dimitri grunts and Jack is suddenly away of how imposing his frame is in the tiny store. He hands Jack a set of bills and takes the lilies, leaving without another word.

* * *

A month later, Dimitri comes to pick up the flowers and there's a line in front of him that winds around the corner. There must be some sort of occasion on, says a voice at the back of his mind. It's with a startling realization that he remembers it's Valentine's Day.

Rose hated Valentine's Day.

He glances at his watch and considers coming back later once the line is gone, but then he sees an arm waving at him frantically from the store window. Dimitri squints for long enough that the person runs out from the store.

"Here," a breathless Jack says, bouquet of lilies in hand. He's panting, obviously unused to the physical activity. His prosthetic leg digs into the grooves between the stones of the pathway.

"Thanks," Dimitri says, not without his fair share of stiffness.

"I didn't want you to have to wait," Jack says. He catches his breath, wiping his hands on the edge of his apron. He looks at Dimitri.

Dimitri nods and looks down at the lilies, then back at Jack for a second, but he's already returned to the store.

* * *

He enters the shop on another Sunday and there's coffee waiting for him at the counter.

"It's yours, if you want it," Jack says with a noncommittal shrug. "They decided to buy an espresso machine, so..."

Dimitri can sense Jack's eager eyes on him and decides it would break fewer hearts if he drinks it. The espresso is bitter, but he doesn't mind it.

"Not a coffee drinker?" he asks Jack. His voice trails off, the cup in his hand feeling three sizes too small.

"No." Jack swipes at something on the counter. "Just tea. Maybe hot cocoa."

"Hot cocoa?" Dimitri is smiling despite himself. "With marshmallows and rainbow sprinkles?"

"Uh-" Jack blushes and something inside Dimitri's chest flutters. "No. No sprinkles. Uh, sir- I mean-"

"No need to call me sir." Dimitri shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He sets the espresso saucer down on the counter, the drink rapidly cooling in its cup. "Have a good day, Jack."

Dimitri winks and he thinks it's a trick of the eye when Jack stumbles a few seconds later.

The next day, a cup of hot cocoa is sitting next to the cash register.

* * *

Winter turns to spring, which makes way for summer and then fall, and Dimitri never misses a Sunday at the florist. Neither does Jack who, despite his previous objection to working on a weekend, is suddenly the first in line to take the day. His manager doesn't do more than shrug. His coworkers know something is up.

"That will be $24.99," Jack says with practiced grace. "How's your day been?"

"The weather's been a bit odd," Dimitri glances at the window, indicating the ridiculous downpour. His hair is dripping with water.

"Yeah, I've never seen it rain this hard before," Jack says lighty. He glances at Dimitri, first at his hands and then at his lips.

"When are you off today?" Dimitri asks suddenly.

Jack thinks his heart might stop. He fumbles with the change. "Uh, six. Why?"

Dimitri stares at him a second too long. "No reason. Have a nice day, Jack."

A tinge of pink colours a sky now devoid of storm clouds, when Jack emerges from the back door of the shop. He's met, suddenly and inexplicably, by the form of Dimitri Belikov standing beside the dumpster.

"Hi," Jack says. His heart is beating out of his chest.

"Hi," Dimitri replies.

There's a tangible moment where they're face to face, a gulf as wide as the ocean between them, and then as soon as it appears, it's gone. Dimitri closes the distance between them, pushing Jack up against the brick wall.

"Is this how you make out with everyone?" Jack asks. "By ambush?"

"Be quiet," Dimitri replies.

Months of stolen glances, light touches, casual conversation with deeper, darker undertones, spills out onto the concrete and the floral-scented air. It's not everything that Jack could have imagined being with Dimitri Belikov would be like, but it's close

And close was all he ever wanted.

* * *

Christmas passes without a word and Dimitri collapses in upon himself with the knowledge that he might have found new love. It consumes his every waking moment, but when he dreams, he sees her face again. The family leaves mementos by her picture, nestled underneath the tree. The thick scent of rose petals fills the air.

He thinks himself insane.

* * *

Jack knows Dimitri isn't his. He isn't a person someone can lay claim to, but there's a growing feeling inside Jack's chest that doesn't want to listen to rational thought. Not that rational thought was Jack's strong suit anyway.

Dimitri walks through the door on a Thursday with a pretty blonde on his arm and everything inside of Jack immediately deflates.

 _This is her. This is the girl he's been buying flowers for._

"This place is so cute," she says, turning to Dimitri with a light smile. A human, Jack notices, which is odd in and of itself. She has short blond hair that stops just above her collarbone and warm brown eyes that take in the sights and sounds of the shop. On her left hand is a simple wedding band, not dissimilar to Dimitri's.

"Do you want some flowers for dinner tonight?" Dimitri asks her.

Her arm is still wound through his, the camel wool of her coat contrasting with the dark leather of his. Jack's throat tightens at the sight. She lets go of Dimitri for a moment to smell an arrangement of roses.

"Roses?" She asks, holding up a yellow flower with pink edges, but puts it back when Dimitri suddenly becomes silent. "Yeah, I hate roses too."

"Something not so flashy," Dimitri says, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his duster. Jack notices that his posture is different, not as broad as before.

"You know who I'm getting this for, right?" She grins.

Dimitri rolls his eyes, patting her shoulder lightly. "Try to go for understated. I know it's in you somewhere."

"Well then..." The woman's voice trails off and she begins an expedition around the store, smelling each and every flower, inspecting the petals for wear, comparing the colours to each other.

"Hi Jack," Dimitri says. "Has business been good?"

Jack manages to swallow his feelings, pushing them down to where they won't surface. "Yeah. It's almost Valentine's day. Everyone is stocking up."

"Us included," Dimitri says. " _Someone_ forgot to order ahead this year."

"I heard that!" The woman shouts from the other side of the store.

Dimitri chuckles and Jack feels like dying.

"No lilies today?" Jack asks. He plays with the keys on the cash register, not meeting Dimitri's eyes.

Dimitri glances surreptitiously around the store, then puts a finger to his lips. "It's not Sunday yet."

Jack nods stiffly. "Right."

"Are you going to the festival?" Dimitri asked. He leans on the counter, his form nearly eclipsing Jack completely. He's so close, Jack can smell his cologne.

Jack shakes his head. "Working."

"Okay." Dimitri stares at him for a moment, but Jack avoids eye contact. Then, he turns to shout over his shoulder. "Sydney! Found anything yet?"

Sydney emerges from one side of the store with a fitsfull of flowers in different shades of blue and white. "What do you think?"

"Perfect." Dimitri smiles.

Jack's universe fades to black.

* * *

He finds it unfair that his manager puts him on the Sunday shift the next week, especially when he requests it off.

 _Don't you like working Sundays?_ His manager says with a waggle of the eyebrows. Jack can hear his coworkers snicker in the background.

 _Didn't you know, Jack?_ Their laughs taunt him. _You can't love a man as dark as him_.

Everything in Jack feels heavy when Dimitri enters the store that Sunday morning. He's alone this time, but it doesn't do much to reassure Jack.

"Hello Jack," Dimitri says with a small smile.

"Hi," he says shortly. "Lilies?"

"Yes." Dimitri sounds hesitant. "How has your day been?"

"Whatever," Jack mutters. He reaches down to get the bouquet.

"Is..." Dimitri begins. He's fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. "Is something wrong, Jack?"

"Nope. I'm just glad to have finally met your wife," Jack shoves the lilies into Dimitri's arms. "She seems great."

"Is that-" Dimitri stops himself. "Is that what you're mad about?"

Jack lowers his voice. "You can't kiss me and then bring in some woman you've been dropping hundreds of dollars on flowers for. It's not fair to either of us."

The words feel stupid as soon as they leave his mouth.

"Do you want to know who I buy the flowers for?" Dimitri's expression grows dark. An unsettling feeling permeates the store.

"Uh..." Jack glances at his supervisor nervously.

"He will be back in twenty minutes," Dimitri says, grabbing Jack's arm. "Let's go."

They leave the store and get into Dimitri's car, which is as devoid of personal effects as Jack had imagined. Not that he'd imagined many things about Dimitri's life outside of his weekly flower purchases, nor that he wondered if the duster he always wore was as much of a relic as the myths of him passed around by the blue-collar workers of Court. He nearly pinches himself in disbelief.

"The Police?" Jack says, his eyebrows furrowed. He picks up the CD from the center console.

"The eighties is the only time with reasonable music," Dimitri says as if that's a normal response from a person with working ears. The car rolls to a stop outside of a wrought-iron gate.

A cemetery.

"Oh..." Jack breathes. His chest begins to tighten. "Oh no, I didn't-"

"Come," Dimitri cuts off any excuse he was about to say and pushes the gate open.

They walk for a few moments before Jack realizes that they're entering the section of the cemetery reserved for dhampir that died in battle, often with distinction. His heart sinks lower into his stomach, his palms begin to sweat. The spires of St Vladimir's Cathedral come into view and Dimitri stops before a humble headstone with only a few words on it.

 _Rose Belikova_

 _1992 - 2015  
Wife, Guardian, Friend_

There's an old bouquet of lilies sitting by the headstone and Dimitri picks them up, throwing them to the wayside as he sets the fresh bouquet in its place.

"21 years," Jack says. He can't think of anything else. "You've been doing this for 21 years."

"Yes." Dimitri doesn't look anywhere but the headstone.

A small part of Jack is selfishly relieved that the person Dimitri is buying the flowers with has been in the ground for decades; it's much worse to be in love with someone else's husband. But, as he looks at Dimitri's face, he realizes that he was as good as married.

"I didn't know," Jack says.

"And now you do," Dimitri replies.

Moments pass as they both stare at the grave of Rose Belikova. Then, a bird caws overhead and Jack places a hand on Dimitri's shoulder.

"Let's go," he says softly.

Dimitri doesn't move. "Yes. Let's."

It feels like sinking.


End file.
